


Dragon Age Renaissance

by antifeminismpromage



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Angst, Drug Withdrawal, Elves, Family Drama, Historical AU, Mages, Magic, OCs - Freeform, Organized Crime, Possible drugs, Sensory Overload, Siblings, Trains, booze, capable twin sister who actually has no idea what she's doing, dwarfs, elven anarchists, idiot twin brother who tries to be a badass, inquisitors - Freeform, literally my first time writing, mage elven anarchists, magic that kicks ass, pondering inner demons, snotty rich people, some violence, tons of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 19:58:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7545943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antifeminismpromage/pseuds/antifeminismpromage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>60 years after the events at the conclave and the birth of the Inquisition, Thedas has catapulted into a new age of technology and society.  Ferelden stands to become a global superpower with inventions from Orzammar.  Innovations in manufacturing and transportation build industry to heights that make the old noble houses seem obsolete.  Twins Ashton and Sofia of House Trevelyan struggle with their family's crippling debt and nearly meaningless title.  The decisions they make as brother and sister stand to change their lives for better or worse, and will put them on center stage of the Renaissance in ways they never imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The day House Trevelyan crumbled for good was noticibly different than any of the days leading up to it; there was no attempt to fill the silence that had taken over the building.  It seemed inevitable that the house that had endured more than a century would one day lose all influence and fall to the times.  Over time, however, keeping the house alive was like trying to sustain a dying relative so that they may go to rest peacefully.  So when the house remained absolutely silent past noon and into dusk, it would reflect the minds of the people living in it; hopeless.

When Cassius died 2 years before he split the holdings of the family between his twin children, Ashton and Sofia.  To the public, (or at least the part of the public that cared what delusional nobles did) this was a horrible idea that could only end in a catastrophe; a deathmatch between the two siblings at best.  In fact the only falling out happened in the first month, when Ashton insisted that the two duel for the title, which Sofia insistently refused.  She was content sharing their wealth.  Ashton, however, wasn't.  It took him an entire season to give in and realize that if he wanted to be head of the house this badly, it was probably for the best that he shouldn't be in charge.

On this day, after 2 years of fighting for a lost cause, Ashton was tired; tired of being trapped in a hopeless mass of debt; tired of living in a house that was getting emptier by the day; tired of being constantly belittled by a world that could move on; tired of having power that meant nothing; tired of living a life that was going nowhere.

Sofia was on the other side of the house at the time.  While Ashton's gaze was fixed on the walls of the once lively house, her's was fixed out the window on Ostwick.  Smoke filled the skies and noise filled the streets.  She saw a city that promised oppurtunity but gave its people the opposite.  There was a new breed of rich and powerful, but it was no different than her family used to be.  The poor would stay poor, and the rich would make certain that they would never end up like those below them.

*  *  *

The first sounds she heard from inside the house, since the 9 hours she had been awake, were her brother's approaching footsteps.  He stood in the doorway, speechless.  They didn't have to say anything to each other because they knew what the other was thinking about; how to create a future for themselves.

"It's all gone, isn't it," Sofia finally said, "Everything.  Everything left of the family is gone and soon we will be too."

Ashton didn't reply for another minute.  "It's not all bad, we don't have to look at that painting of Father when we eat anymore."

His sister smiled a little.  For all of Ashton's faults, (and there's a long list of Ashton's faults just you wait) he could always lighten the mood and make her smile.

"I've been thinking about the people less fortunate than us, brother," Sofia said, "about how they survive.  It's fair to say they don't live the way we'd want to but it can't be too bad.  They live, they eat, they work, they build themselves up from nothing."

"Are you suggesting we get jobs at the mill we sold last month?"  His mind kept going back to their lost properties.

"Just...I'm trying to think positively.  I don't think we'll end up that fair down the social ladder but if the worst comes I want to be ready for it.  Ostwick may be a tough city to live in but if the house outlived father then we might just outlive the house.  You and I are strong together and nothing can-"

"I want to leave Ostwick." Ashton interjected.

Whether the street outside had actually become quieter, or if Sofia had temporarily gone deaf from hearing this idea that made her heart skip 3 beats, she didnt know.

"Leave Ostwick?" She stuttered. "And go where? Do what? And how? With all the money we don't have?  Did you think this through at all before just now?"

"Not really.  I think we have enough gold to get us across the Waking Sea and into Ferelden, but I hadn't thought much past maybe Denerim."

"You want to go to f*cking Denerim?!?" Sofia responded, almost enraged by Ashton's short sight, "What could possibly be in Denerim that's worth risking our lives fortune and health for???"

"Much more than we can get here, 'Lady-I-wouldn't-mind-living-in-a-shack-as-long-as-it-means-I-make-enough-money-to-live-miserably.'"  The tension of the past 3 months was close to releasing.

"You think I want to live in poverty?!   I don't!  It sounds awful!  I just want to make sure we consider all our options before we do something so ridiculous as move to Denerim with no money and no connections whatsoever!"

"That's exactly it Sofia!  No one knows who we are in Denerim!"  He hadn't thought of this idea before, but he was ready to make it sound like he had.  "If we go to Ferelden no one will recognize us as the Trevelyans who drove their own house to the ground because they couldn't adapt to modern industry.  We'll make up for our losses overnight!"

"No one knows who you are?  Doesn't sound like your kind of world, Ashton Trevelyan."

Ashton's expression went from wonder and excitement for the future to one of blinding rage within one second.  In about half that time, Sofia went from standing up to on her back with a bleeding nose.

And finally, after 2 years of content with partnership with her brother, Sofia fought her brother Ashton in the deathmatch friends of the family had predicted.

*  *  *

Sofia woke up two hours later with a blood caked nose and her father's rifle in her hands, stock bloodied.  She found Ashton downstairs in the dining room with a bruised eye and his grandfather's sword about a meter away, perfectly clean.

She considered, for about 6 minutes, the thought of putting a bullet in Ashton's head before he could wake up and ruin her life more.  To her, Ashton was nothing more than a power-hungry, egotistical, greedy disappointment of a brother and a son who would be better off dead than poor.  She considered shooting him, until she saw his philter in his left hand.

There's a long list of things Sofia would do to harm her brother, but one of them was not to let him relapse, especially not cause him to.  She put the gun down.

Ashton opened his eyes and saw the gun that nearly bashed his face in at his side.  "If you really want to shoot me," he forced out in his broken state, "There's not much I can do to stop you."

"I'm not goi-"

"But please don't."

Sofia sighed, once again smiling at her brother in his most sincere form.  "Get some coffee in you and pack your things," she said, "We're going to Denerim."

*  *  *

2 hours later, in the dead of night, House Trevelyan was emptied of posessions as well as people, as the twins Ashton and Sofia made their way to the Waking Sea and then to Denerim, armed with nothing but the clothes off their backs.  The world was changing, and the twins were ready to change as well.  The life ahead of them wouldn't be the one anyone could have predicted, and that was exactly what they wanted.  The one thing that was certain was that Ostwick had done all it could, and the future lay beyond the horizon.


	2. Chapter 2

While the twins fought the battle for their survival from the Free Marches, there was another one raging further south. Where the twins were coming to terms with entering the new world, someone else was fighting for the old one in a war against fear and superstition; a war many assumed was over a long time ago and was fought from the shadows. No one knew exactly the scale to which it was fought but right now, we’ll focus on Redcliffe, and a woman named Nell.

Nell had a long and peculiar history. She was born about 60 years earlier but she looked in her early 30’s. Her black hair was full of tiny white strands brought on by anxiety rather than age. There weren't many opportunities to see her face during the day since it was easier for her to be outside with her face hidden under a hood. She felt her face, especially the tattoos and the blood red eyes, were better off seen by people she cared for.

Nell was one of the people who saw past the illusion that elves were working their way up in the world. Even though it was becoming easier for elves to find work and raise a family, prejudice and discrimination were as rampant and horrid as they'd been since Nell was born. She hadn't been exposed to it for long; she had only lived in human cities for 10 years. And even though the elves in Redcliffe weren't necessarily her people, she knew injustice when she saw it.

It was nighttime in Redcliffe, when Nell’s work was performed best. It was neither the work that could be put to paper nor was it work she could be seen doing. She was looking out for her fellow elves and bringing fear to the people who would hurt them. And she had to do it by night because didn't want to be discovered as a Mage.

*  *  *

Her target was a man named Matthias who had come to Redcliffe to buy land for a new lumber mill, (since the Hinterlands will never have a shortage of trees). He was meeting with the landlord in his home and each brought their group of tough-looking associates; all targets in Nell’s eyes. Her mission was to enter the house, attack the landlord and the 4 bodyguards and take Matthias hostage.  This would be an ordinary for her; lethally assaulting a bunch of humans in front of someone she wanted to scare the shit out of.

She followed Matthias to the landlord’s home overlooking Lake Calenhad. He and his men entered and from outside she could hear them. From the window nothing sounded coherent; not that anything they said mattered to Nell in the slightest. The details of the negotiations wouldn't matter because when she was done with them there wouldn't be a deal.

When she felt it was time Nell pulled out a pocketbook. Inside were marks and letters that only she could understand really. It's impossible to tell what spell she used exactly because the circle still has a lot to learn about elven magic, but what was certain was that in one moment she was outside the house listening in, and in the next she was inside the house and could finally make out what the men were saying; only now it was just screaming.

*  *  *

The landlord reached into his coat for his pistol, ordering his men to attack the elf. Matthias did the same, but rather than defend himself he ran for the door. This was inconvenient for Nell; not the 3 men ready to punch her many times and the 2 ready to shoot her, but the fact that Matthias might miss what she was about to do to all of them. Pressed for time and unable to move, she launched a small fireball from her hand, propelling the 3 men backwards and disorienting the shooters. She had time to beat Matthias to the door and, using her emergency knife, held Matthias like a shield while the landlord was still trying to piece together what had just happened. Nell had herself and her target exactly where she wanted them. It was time for justice to be served and for Matthias to witness. She spoke into his ear:

“Watch closely; the chance won't come again.”

In one motion with her hand she had shot icicles into two men and stone fists at two others. With a snap of her fingers the landlord caught fire, screaming both in horror at the cruel acts he saw in front of him, and in pain as he burnt to ash.

*  *  *

Matthias was practically pissing himself as Nell introduced and explained herself. “I'm sorry I was so violent to those men. Most men of your...stature don't see mages very often, much less a dalish one. I should have been more gentle but they threatened to kill me and of course I had to defend myself.”

“You killed them all!” Matthias said, equal parts terrified and enraged, “You cost me nearly ten thousand gold! I'm ruined because of you!”

“Are you?” Nell replied with sympathy in her voice but hatred in every other aspect of her manner, “Well, I'll try to make it up to you somehow, I promise.”

“R-really?” Nell waited a moment to reflect on Matthias’ utter inability to detect sarcasm. She then said, “No you f*ckwit, I hate you.”

“Then why spare me?”

“The answer to your question,” Nell replied, lowering her hood to show her face, “Is actually most interesting you'll want to hear it. I want to make right all the injustices profit-minded men like you have committed. You send elves and humans living in slums and on the brink of poverty into working conditions that will kill them, paying them wages that can't keep them alive. You aim for profit and you don't care who you hurt along the way.

“But killing you won't bring them justice. Your position is easily replaceable and frankly, not even that significant. What you need is a little more perspective. You need to see what the people you step on can do to you,” she gestured to the bleeding, burned and lifeless bodies, “You need to see what's coming to you. Then you can make it up to the people,” she outstretched her hand, having stated her terms and ready to finalize her deal. “Do you promise?”

Matthias sat silent for a moment like the other men of wealth who only saw her as a short-sighted anarchist. He then started to grin, which turned into a nervous smile, which turned into laughter.

“You really think you can stop this?” He said, “You think just by scaring some businessmen the people can rise to the top? Ha! That's just rich that's f*cking rich!” His laughing was becoming even more mocking. “And you start with me? Some nobody who owns a distillery and a few mills outside of Crestwood? I don't even own anything in Denerim! You're going to change history from Redcliffe?”

Nell was actually taken aback for a moment. All she was doing was killing nobodies so she could scare nobodies so they could end up doing nothing. This wasn't even the first time she’d heard this. A woman in Val Cheven told her the same thing on a job much like the one you're reading about now. And they were both right; there wasn't a lot she could do from Val Cheven or Redcliffe, and she had to move up if she wanted to make a difference.

“If you're going to make the change you seek,” Matthias added, confident it would make no difference, “You're going to have to go to Denerim, then Val Royeaux, then Kirkwall, then the next city and the next after that killing everyone fueling the industry you hope to dismantle, which you would know is impossible if you had any mind left in you!” Nell was walking out the door. “You have to eradicate them, just like what happened with your clan!”

She stopped.

“You're the last of clan Lavellan,” Matthias said, “That's what you said...isn't it?”

Nell locked the door and turned to face Matthias. He had given Nell a crucial piece of advice that she was determined to implement, starting that night.

*  *  *

The people in the town could hear what had happened but couldn't tell for sure. The last things they heard from that house were gunshots, and the last they saw of that house was its going up in flames. Matthias was never seen in Redcliffe or Crestwood again.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s safe to assume that the ones reading this tale have conflicting images of Thedas in their minds. You may be trying to picture it as you last saw it, but that image didn't include guns or mass industry and did include an extravagant nobility and an effective deterrent against Mages. To help clarify the image that you should have in your head, (which isn't the Thedas you're familiar with) 60 years of historical background is necessary.

In the 15 years following the 5th blight, Thedas was a world in constant need of saving. Templars and Mages went to war over freedom for Mages, and when the dust was about to settle, the unimaginable and catastrophic threat known as Corypheus ruined it all. From the chaos he created the Inquisition rose, led by someone many saw as a radical upstart, but more saw as a savior and a deity.

2 years after Corypheus was defeated the Inquisition’s time had come. The Inquisitor was put before Orlais, Ferelden, and the Chantry, and the Inquisition was disbanded. However, former members of the Inquisition began a hunt for another one of their own: an elf named Solas. People saw him first as an apostate with helpful knowledge on the Fade which could be used against Corypheus. By the time he died, the world saw him as an abomination; a false god who would bring the world crumbling down for his own desires.

In the years following Solas’ defeat in Tevinter, tension and hysteria spread throughout Thedas. Solas’ magic was nearly unstoppable and he was defeated at too great a cost. If a Mage were to ever become that powerful, there was little hope to outmatch them.

So while Orlais continued to bathe in sloth and excess and Tevinter and Qunandar went back to spilling each other’s blood, the world would turn to Ferelden and Orzammar to find the edge Thedas needed.

Within 3 years of Solas’ death Ferelden’s circle of magi discovered something revolutionary; lyrium didn't just grant its users abilities to fight magic, but it was also a sustainable and powerful source of energy. At the same time the dwarves invented a steam engine, which would revolutionize both transportation and industry.

In the following years these two discoveries would launch Ferelden into an industrial revolution and secure its place as a global power. Railroads were built that spanned from Denerim all the way to Minrathous. New techniques of mass production launched Ferelden's economy to new heights. Lyrium-powered generators lit up entire city blocks, making torchlit streets seem like an antiquity.

In the Free Marches, smugglers and cons were concerned that this rise of power would threaten their livelihoods. To defend themselves they began making crude models of single-shot firearms, operating on a one-chamber flintlock system. Eventually Kirkwall police found some of the designs, and planned to sell improved designs to Ferelden's growing military to help their city rebuild.

30 years after the death of Solas and borders had changed. Ferelden’s territory now encompassed the Dales, with Orlais woefully unprepared to resist. Orlais signed the Dales over to King Alistair on the condition that the mages in Ferelden were better trusted with knowledge on elven magic in the Dales.

By year 40 society had changed significantly. Large companies and corporations had formed in Ferelden, Orlais, Antiva, Nevarra and even Rivain. People began turning away from the Chantry as a source of truth about the world as science and magic became accepted more. Mages had more freedom than ever before, as any civilian armed with a six shot revolver could defend themselves from abominations.

Tevinter was late to adapt to the modern age. For even after all of society's advances, Tevinter was still hung up on elitism and took pride in the antiquities that filled their country. If the Renaissance was inspired by the need to defeat magic, then their magic would prevail over all. The Imperium would endure as it had always done so, even during times of radical change: the ultimate test to its superiority.

By 10:05 Noise, King Alistair was long dead and his daughter Beatrice had taken the throne. She would prove to be among the most compassionate yet ruthless rulers Ferelden had ever known. She would make it her life’s work to ensure that no matter how many opportunities society had, the strong would be in check and the weak would not be abused.

That was only the plan of course. The wealthy would only become wealthier and the poor would empty their pockets for their next meals. Nearly every single office was bought out by a different corrupt businessman wanting to pull the strings. The companies had more power than her government did.

If corporate rule from the top was bad enough, there were some who enforced their will from the underground up. In Ferelden's cities alone--especially Denerim--gangs littered the streets and terrorized normal working people. When the powerful had to go outside the law to get what they wanted, they'd pay off the gangs to do their work.

The amount of organized crime in Denerim was growing larger by the day. There were at least 20 different gangs in the whole city, filled with humans and elves and mages and even tal-vashoth. Some specialized in robberies, some smuggled, most were just beaten down people looking for power. A third of businesses in the city either payed tribute to the gangs or were just fronts.

The years to come would be called the Noise Age, named by Divine Victoria after the noise that had come over Val Royeaux since her ascension. Val Royeaux didn't have as much industry in the city itself, but you could hear it as you walked; every soul in the city, if not all of Orlais, had been overtaken by a sense of urgency. The world was moving too fast for the people living in it.

  
*  *  *

This was the world Nell and the twins found themselves in. The nobility becoming obsolete and the Dalish endangered more than ever. They were entering a world in which they hoped to prosper, but it was one that would challenge and nearly destroy them. Their world wasn't welcoming anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

When Nell Lavellan stepped off the train to Denerim, she'd find the noise to be the city’s distinguishing trait as well. The station itself was chaotic: the train whistles, the sound of trains arriving and leaving, the footsteps, and the sheer amount of voices. She wondered how anyone could stand to be in that building for more than a whole minute. It was more noise than she’d ever experienced and it would only get worse.

She finally got out of the station to catch her breath. Had her hood not compromised her peripherals, she might have noticed she walked into the middle of the street. She managed to dodge a carriage in time fortunately, (“OUGHTA THE WAY YOU SOD!”) but she froze when she was out of harm’s way. The ambiance of the capital city was as polluting as the smoke.

After pulling herself together she elected to get off the street and find a room somewhere.

*  *  *

With enough money stolen from her past engagements she could rent food a room and a bath for at least a month. Before she could start her real work she'd have to find a well-paying job or go outside the law as she had done in the past to support herself. She had immersed herself in the world she was trying to change, and might have been as helpless as the people she was trying to save.

So Nell walked outside onto the street to find a cry for help almost instantly.

From down the street she heard a woman’s screaming and saw a bleeding man in her arms. On instinct she ran over and asked what could be done.

“Please, please help!” The woman said, still panicked, “I fought them off but he's losing blood! He's been shot and needs a doc-”

She paused and looked at Nell with urgency. Nell took it for suspicion. “...are you a mage?” She asked in a hushed but still urgent tone.

Nell knew the consequences if she answered that question. She didn't, but remained silent.

“Answer me please!” The woman said, clutching Nell’s collar but clearly trying to keep her voice down, “Are you a mage?!”

Nell heard the woman’s desperation and knew that whatever opinions about mages were set aside in this moment. In fact, she asked as though the man’s life depended on the answer.

“Yes…” She answered, “I'm a mage. What does it matter?”

“Thank Andraste you can help! Please, can you heal him? And do you have a place we can hide?”

*  *  *

“I was never trained in healing a great deal,” Nell said, considering her patient, “But I think I can stop the bleeding and fix most of the tissue damage. I'll have to bandage the rest, but he'll be fine and definitely won't bleed out.”

“Thank you,” said the woman, “I don't have a lot of money on me at hand but when I do I promise-”

“You don't have to pay me, I insist. But right now 10 minutes of privacy would be nice.”

The woman complied and left Nell with her patient.

2 minutes in, the man became curious about his nurse. She was still wearing her hood and he was trying to see underneath it when something caught his eye: her eyes.

“I might be seeing things as I'm about to die,” he said, “But your eyes look odd.”

“Oh, so you do talk.”

“Are they normally that color? Or are you sick? Is it a mage thing?”

“How about,” Nell insisted, “You stop asking weird questions and start minding your own business. I'm busy saving your life.”

The patient reluctantly agreed. Nell, however, was starting to feel guilty about hiding her identity from people she wanted to help. Traditionally she'd do this to everyone, but now she wanted to take a step towards trusting people.

“How about this. I take the hood off if you promise not to scream or tell your neighbors about this,” she said, “okay?”

The man looked confused, but his curiosity clearly got the better of him. He agreed, she took her hood off, and, while he didn't scream, he did stare in awe as if he'd never seen a Dalish elf in his life.

*  *  *

She'd finished and patched the man up and--as opposed to her previous plan, (never seeing either of them again)--she explained who she was and what she wanted to do in Denerim. In turn, the man and woman introduced themselves as Sofia and Ashton Trevelyan from Ostwick.

“We had a title and holdings in the city for nearly 200 years,” Sofia said, “until recently when we fell into debt and sold nearly everything. As equal heads of house Ash and I thought it'd be best if we just left the city and used what money we had to start a life here.”

“And for the record that plan was my idea,” Ashton interrupted.

“You want to take the blame for it? You got shot 3 days in.”

“...Please continue.”

Sofia continued, “Like I said we've only been here for 3 days. We're looking for work at the moment and getting by on what we still have. I wouldn't say life is hard but it's not what it used to be.”

Nell’s impression of the twins changed from that of helpless outcasts to one of disinherited monarchs. In a way they looked like relics: people who meant something once but fell behind the times and descended to this.

“Well I'm glad to have helped you two,” Nell said conclusively, “And I wish you two good luck. May Mythal, or the Maker, or Andraste or--whatever it doesn't matter--help you find what you're looking for.”

“One moment,” said Ashton with a familiar look in his eyes, “How'd you like to move out of this shithole and come live with us?”

“What?” Said both Nell and Sofia.

“Listen. I think something greater brought us together and for what reason I'm not sure,” Ashton said, “But I feel it right to repay you for what you've done. As long as you can pay the rent you can room with us and maybe by next month we can work out a different arrangement.”

“You know,” Sofia added, “You might be right. Nell, you've helped us when no one else did and with so little cause to do so. Our goals may be different, but you seem to mean well for other people and that's worth supporting.” She outstretched her hand. “What do you say?”

Nell wanted to take steps towards trusting the people she wanted to save.


	5. Chapter 5

Needless to say, Sofia and Ashton were in a difficult spot.

Helping a freedom fighter who should, by all forms of logic, want to kill them wasn't something  they ever imagined doing in their lifetime. Still, she saw some good in them, so it seemed right that they do the same for her.

Of course they couldn't afford to make her feel comfortable at all. They were running out of money and couldn't find jobs.

“I'm going to regret this aren't I,” Ashton said out on a walk with his sister, “I try to do one good thing and it's going to bite our asses isn't it.”

“This was a good thing? This redeems you? We take advantage of a random mage and giving her a home when she already had one was out of selflessness?”

“I fail to see how this was selfish of me. Is this because she's a mage? Do you think I wanted to use that to our own gain? Profit off her magic? Is that what you think of me, sister?”

Sofia sighed. “Sorry. It seems a little reckless and a lot out of character.”

“Listen to me,” Ashton stopped walking and turned to face her, “She saved my life and it seemed like the right thing to do. But we hardly have enough money to sustain ourselves, much less enough to take care of someone worse off. We have to work ourselves up to a point where we can do this without destroying ourselves, okay?”

Ashton had a point. With money lost just by the cost of living they could do next to nothing for Nell, and Sofia didn't fully trust Nell to be able to do anything for them. When they got back to their apartment, they'd have a real talk with Nell about where they stood.

*  *  *

There's no visible distinction between the poor and rich neighborhoods in Denerim. Of course there's the alienage and of course there's the area near and around the palace. But there were gang dens near upper-middle class homes and mansions built on the border of slums. Beggars and homeless flocked to richer areas, and salarymen on their way to work walked through filth.  The point is that Denerim is wildly unpredictable based on where you are. You don't know who the people around you are or who you'll bump into. Could be Queen Beatrice, could be Marissa Caine of the Turks or one of her associates. It was really a matter of luck.

When Sofia found the latter it was hard to say whether fortune favored her or not. Ashton had gone home before her and it was getting dark, so she tried to cut through a few blocks via alleyway. She'd stumble into a trap--and with no weapon to defend herself.

A few cons in Ostwick, (friends of our departed Matthias in fact) believed the Trevelyans left for Denerim knee-deep in their fortune; fortune that a reasonable person would be willing to split if they found it. Their word reached Denerim that two filthy rich twins had come to town with a fortune so large it could set you for life. Certain people took notice to it; one gang forged a bounty and had Ashton shot.

Sofia was in the wrong place to be.

A man and a woman wearing deep red coats approached her from further down the alleyway. Sensing something was wrong, she turned back, only to find an elven man in a similar color approaching from the other side, armed with a knife.

_This is bad,_ Sofia thought _, This is bad and you’re probably going to die if you don't think fast. I don't have a weapon but…_

The woman was approaching faster than her companion.  She'd start with her.

*  *  *

Sofia had only punched someone in the face once in her life before this moment, and if there was one thing she remembered, it was that it hurt both parties. The trick was to make the punch count; cause as much physical and psychological pain as possible. The solution? Break the woman’s nose.

Sofia broke the woman’s nose. She started bleeding; a lot.

With one assailant wildly disoriented by all the blood coming out of her face, Sofia could focus on the elven man. He tried to get at her with the knife, which she was ready to dodge. She dodged into the swipe, putting her in a position to disarm him; maybe use the knife to hold him as leverage.

Sofia experienced more adrenaline than she had in her entire adult life. She'd gotten into fights before with her brother and a few other similarly shady characters. But 3 people? One of which could stab her? She'd never done it, nor thought it possible up to this point.

“Throw that punch you cockstick!” Sofia yelled at the second man with the elf’s knife to his own throat, “See what happens!”

He pulled out his six-shot.

_Fuck._

“Listen up, dahling,” the man said through a thick beard and a thicker accent, “We dun wan you, we jus wan yoa money. Tell us where that forchune of yoas is’a hidin’, pud the knife down, an’ we may lit you go.”

Sofia took a minute to translate what he said, then another to think about what he meant by a fortune.

“What sort of money do you think I have? Who do you think I am?”

“You're Sofia Trevelyan!” The elven hostage said, Sofia loosening her grip, “You're one of them Free Marches nobles right? From Ostwick!”

“There is no way you would know that.  No one cares about Ostwick nobles.  Especially not Ostwick.”

“But there is!” Shouted the woman, blood still streaming from her nose, “Some lowlifes in your hometown wanna split the house fortune with whoever finds it!”

Sofia tossed the elf away from her, dumbfounded by the situation in front of her. Why anyone would spread such lies about a grand Trevelyan fortune was as beyond her as anyone actually believing those lies.  She wanted to beat them up further, but at the same time...

“Do you guys work in a gang? You're all wearing matching jackets.”

They all nodded.

“Would it trouble you to take me to your boss? I want to explain myself to them and whoever else wants to listen.”

*  *  *

Sofia got her parlay, but not in the way she imagined. She thought she'd be sitting on the opposite end of a desk from the person in charge and having a civil conversation, just between them. She found herself in an empty, abandoned house in the slums surrounded by intimidating-looking individuals with guns. The only comfortable seating were two torn up couches facing each other.

_So this is how your kind does business, is it?_ She thought. She'd never say anything like “your kind” out loud to a person, however. In her old life, she'd seen how that could get to someone.

Finally, someone stepped into the room, and the tension began to ease. The men standing behind Sofia holstered their pistols, and other guards looked relieved, like a breath of fresh air walked in. They appeared relaxed, but still respectful; respect that came from love and fear at the same time.

“You must be the the talk of the town, Sofia Trevelyan herself,” the dwarf said, setting herself on the other chair, “Marissa Caine, boss of the Turks. It's good to finally meet you.”

They shook hands. Sofia hadn't met a surface dwarf in her life, but wasn't prepared to say anything about it. She had a tell; a look about her face that spoke volumes of the emotions behind such a meeting. Marissa could notice, but she too held her tongue.  It was nothing she hadn't dealt with before.

“So I have an interesting story for you,” Caine said, pouring drinks for her and her guest, “Which sounds more like a heroic campfire tale. It's about three of my own Turks going against one unarmed woman in an alley not far from here.” She paused and took a sip. As she spoke, she sounded matter-of-fact; not nearly as troubled by the story as Sofia might've thought. “They ended up with a broken nose and a scarred neck between the three of them.  The woman made some threats, and they came to a stalemate. In the end, she works them to her side and meets with their boss to discuss the cause for the assault. Which brings us here. Would you like to tell that woman’s side?”

Sofia felt something she hadn't felt from an adversary in at least 8 years: respect. It was...odd.

(But a refreshing change of pace).

“First of all, that woman was me,” (Marissa gave her a look that plainly said “No shit”) “Second of all, they said something about my family’s fortune. I should tell you that our house is broke and all the money we might've had is either spent or stolen already. There's no ‘secret fortune’ or anything like the lies you've heard.”

“You say we've been fed lies about you?”

“Yes. My brother and I are the last of the family and we came here to build something else of ourselves.” She considered her glass for a moment, until Marissa gave her an indication that it wasn't poisoned. She drank, then continued, “May I ask how you heard this rumor?”

“Would you believe me if I said pretty much every gang in Denerim has heard it and believes it?”

“Well...it's an unwelcome surprise.”

Marissa looked out the window. “I wouldn't want to be you or your brother. I heard it from friends who heard it from friends and so on. We don't know for sure what the source is, but it could be someone from Ostwick with either the wrong perception or a vendetta. My money’s on the former.”

Someone at Caine’s side leaned over to her and said, “You don't actually believe this woman? She might just be covering her own ass.”

“Sofia, I don't want to kill either of you.” It was as if she didn't even notice her advisor, “In fact, I'm willing to help you. You're probably still out of work and probably won't find it any time soon, yes?”

She nodded in confirmation.

“And I take you for the kind of person who's willing to put their reputation behind her, no matter from how high up it comes from?”

She thought for a moment, then agreed wholeheartedly. Caine started to grin.

“Then I have an offer for you. I'm willing to work with you to stop the rumors surrounding your family, (and pay you), if you do a little work for me in exchange. Does that interest you?”

Neither her or her brother had ever dealt with criminals of any kind. It wasn't unheard of for a noble house to slip money to an assassin or some mercs to do some shady work, but neither of them had experience in this. She had to know more.

“What would you have me do?”

“We need more fronts. Businesses set up by our own people to build our profits. You two should have some experience in that sort of thing, correct? You can handle facilitating these fronts and getting them started?”

This sounded easy.

“I might call upon you specifically for some...unsavory work on the side. Very often in this job we have to spill blood, and you seem like the kind of woman for just that.”

Sofia stood up from her chair. “I'm sorry?! You think I can...kill people?!”

“You almost killed two of my own.  It's hardly a step up for you I bet.”

“I'm not talking about my capabilities! I'm talking about--” She caught her breath and tried to compose herself, “--I don't want to kill anyone. I'll funnel as much money as you want but I'm not killing for you.”

Marissa sat in her chair, unfazed. “You think you're not up to it? Fine. If that's what you feel, I don't want to change or challenge that.” She stood up and took a step toward her, “But once you start this work--once you take your steps down this road--you're gonna find you have a greater capacity for violence than you ever thought you did. So many people have fallen onto this path thinking just like you. I know some of them personally and I'm also terrified of them. Why? Because when they get their hands dirty it's when they feel they have to; and when they feel they have to, they really go at it.  It's like they're detached from their actions when that happens. You're gonna feel that a lot, trust me.”

“I…”

“You don't have to respond to that. It's tough to hear--and honestly kinda scary when you say it out loud. Just...think about that.”

Caine sat back down and refilled her glass.

Sofia was offended but intrigued by what Caine had said. She had always seen herself as a woman with greater potential for compassion than brutality. But after the events of that day she began to question the truth of that paradigm. She thought back to the rush she felt when she broke that woman’s nose. It wasn't just the urgency of the situation that caused it.

She had thought about that, and was ready to decide.

“I'll consider the offer, Miss Caine,” Sofia said. “I want to bring my brother tomorrow so we can discuss the specifics.  If he's in, so am I.”

“Wonderful! I can hardly wait to meet him. We’ll meet at that old alleyway. I wanna tell him the story.”

They shook on it. The Trevelyans were gonna be part of a gang.

Sofia was about to be escorted downstairs when she added one final thought.

“Also, we have this friend who's been living with us and needs a job, do you mind if we include her?”


End file.
